


In Which Clyde Drinks Coffee, Craig Eats a Taco and Tweek Flips Someone Off

by Oneirogenic



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-28
Updated: 2012-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-30 05:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oneirogenic/pseuds/Oneirogenic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clyde, Tweek and Craig are on some sort of road trip and Tweek has trouble eating. Emotions happen!</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Clyde Drinks Coffee, Craig Eats a Taco and Tweek Flips Someone Off

Tweek heaves a heavy sigh, settling into the uncomfortable booth, pressing himself against Clyde’s side with almost crushing force.   
  
After only a few moments hesitation, Clyde looks up at him with bags under his eyes, but he is smiling very slightly. It makes Tweek almost smile too, but Tweek is far too tired to smile, so he only leans his head against Clyde’s shoulder.   
  
The smell of his weak, too-sweet coffee makes Tweek’s stomach turn.

“Couldn’t find anything you wanted?” Craig asks. He, too, has bags under his eyes, darker and more sunken than Clyde’s. He doesn’t smile, but instead picks at the remains of the plate of Tex-Mex he had ordered. Only the sad, soggy, half-eaten shell of a cheap taco remains, the browning guacamole making Tweek wish they had chosen anywhere but here to eat.   
  
“Tweek, _please_ eat something,” Clyde sighs, puffy brown eyes scrutinizing Tweek with little reservation.   
  
“I’ll eat when we stop for the night,” Tweek replies, looking away. He feels as though he is lying, but can’t quite figure out why.  
  
“When was the last time you ate?”  
  
Tweek cringes at how impatient Clyde sounds with him. Tears begin to prickle at his eyes, irritation welling up in him. Clyde should know better. He, of all people, should know better than to…than to…  
  
“I don’t remember,” he says simply, gritting his teeth.  
  
“Please, just order something,” Clyde pleads again, exasperated. “You’re not going to die, I promise. You didn’t let us buy you anything from the grocery store, you won’t eat at any restaurants, and we won’t be home for at least another ten hours.”  
  
Tweek looks to Craig for help.   
  
“He’s right,” Craig responds, voice a quiet, tired monotone.   
  
Before Tweek realizes what he is doing, he is standing again. On shaky legs, he makes his way toward the door.   
  
“Tweek, for the love of God…”   
  
Tweek hears Clyde get up, but just brandishes his middle finger over his shoulder, not trusting himself to not start screaming if he speaks.

\---  
  
He doesn’t bother to look up from the nest of blankets and dirty clothes in the backseat when Craig and Clyde open the front doors of Clyde’s car and pile in with him.  
  
When Clyde asks him if they can do _anything_ , he just buries his face into the wet folds of the quilt he has wrapped around him, shaking with quiet sobs that he’s almost too tired to cry. He just wants to be home. This was a terrible idea and all he wants is to be back home where he doesn’t feel lost and alone and confused and trapped and hungry all at the same time.  
  
He is beyond caring when the car stops only a couple of minutes later, and he hears the driver-side door open and shut again. It is only when he feels Craig’s thin hand on his back that he lets out the shuddering breath he didn’t realize he was keeping in.   
  
“I’m so tired,” he says.  
  
“We all are,” Craig replies, tracing a wide circle on Tweek’s back with his hand.  
  
They sit in silence until Tweek hears the door open and shut again. The crinkle of a plastic shopping bag makes panic well in his throat, but he doesn’t try to figure out why, instead forcing it down. He is too tired for it.  
  
“Hey…” Clyde says. The irritation in his voice is gone, and Tweek looks up to see his and Craig’s faces etched with concern and fatigue.   
  
“H-hey…” Tweek mumbles.   
  
“I bought you some food, okay?” Clyde says. “It didn’t cost that much. We still have plenty to get home on, so you don’t have to worry about it.”  
  
Hearing the words aloud makes Tweek feel stupid, and he sits up, nodding, scrubbbing at a sticky eye with his fist.   
  
A bag of tortilla chips, a tub of store-brand trail mix, some hummus and a small bottle of iced tea, all organic.   
  
Tweek’s chest hurts when he looks at Clyde again. He feels thankful and undeserving at the same time and it makes him want to start crying again.   
  
“If you don’t eat it, I will,” Craig says in a voice that is irritable but affectionate.   
  
Nodding again, Tweek opens the tub of trail mix, picking out a couple of raisins and bits of chocolate. He has to psych himself up, but he manages to put them in his mouth and they taste good. He eats a couple of almonds, instincts overcoming anxiety as he chews quickly, then eats a few more.  
  
Clyde is smiling, wide and triumphant, when he eventually turns around to start the car, while Craig watches him eat for a few more moments.  
  
When Craig finally turns around to grunt at Clyde about his taste in music, Tweek nestles deep in his soft nest, thumbing the cold glass of the iced tea bottle.   
  
And it is in this moment—this crowded, sweat-smelling, worn-out moment—that he knows for certain that he will always love them.


End file.
